Eyes On Fire
by Gray Doll
Summary: Love is a burning thing; he set the fire, and she let it consume her. Bella/Voldemort


_**Author's Note: This is the first of nine chapters of my new Bella/Voldemort story... All of the chapters are written and are undergoing revision... The story is Bella-centric, told entirely from her point of view, and is divided into three parts; pre-Voldemort, being a new Death Eater and post-Azkaban. I know that Voldemort in this story (or at least in the first couple of chapters) is a bit (or maybe a lot) different than the one we see in the books, but there's a plan. And, in **_**my**_**head, pre-first war Voldemort is a bit more... shall I say, cocky? Deliberately fascinating? Charmingly arrogant? Yes, that's the word... in a way.**_

_**Reviews are love.**_

x

It was not a secret in Wizarding Britain that the Black family was a great deal wealthy, a great deal pure, and deucedly proud of it -though some, of forked tongue, insisted that it was more arrogance than pride, what the Blacks so often displayed.

Of course, Cygnus Black, the august head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, paid no attention to such vulgar annotations. In fact, instead of chafing at hearsay, he often felt amused (and even pleased) when rumours and gossip about his family reached his ears -it meant they were important enough to be talked about, and enviable enough to spark tale telling, that was, of course, anything but true.

However, a family like the Blacks, no matter how old and pure they are, always have to remind others of their superiority, and of course, what better way to do this than throwing balls and hosting celebrations? Such events were the perfect occasion to flaunt the House's wealth and power and strengthen its status in Pureblood society; and Walpurgis Night was no different.

Focused on prestige rather than religion and lark, the members of the Black family had begun preparations for the Ball nearly a month ago -everything had to be impeccable, after all, the elite of Europe's Pureblood society would be attending- and said preparations seemed to be the only thing in mind for Cygnus, Alphard and Orion Black, the heads of the House, and their wives.

It was the hysteria of her family that irritated Bellatrix so much. Every year, every season, it was the same. Doilies, bouquets, chandeliers, orchestras, platters, valets, draperies; it was all her parents and grandparents seemed to have in mind during these days, as though there were nothing more important in the world than matching the curtains with the lead violinist's bow tie. It was truly ridiculous, as far as Bellatrix was concerned, but she was the elder child of the Black family; excitement and of course assistance in preparations were expected of her.

The only good thing about having to endure endless deliberations about the colour of the draperies was that she got to get away from school, even if that was only for a couple of days. Not that Bellatrix was the type of student who never missed any chance to skip class -in fact, nearly every teacher at Hogwarts constantly praised her for her diligence and studiousness, but it was her fellow classmates Bellatrix couldn't stand (or at least, most of them).

Of course there had been no objections when Cygnus Black had requested that his three daughters take a week's break from Hogwarts -Albus Dumbledore might have wanted to protest, indeed, but the Minister of Magic himself had taken matters in his own hands (for the amount of money Cygnus Black donated to the British Ministry of Magic every year was not negligible at all). And of course the earnest Minister had done the same when the Lestrange and Malfoy families had demanded that their children have a week's time away from school as well in order to attend the ball. Bellatrix was, indeed, expected to assist in getting everything ready for the "big night", and she would have despaired were it not for Narcissa, who happily was of assistance to Druella, Walburga and the matronly Grandmother Irma, thus making the older women nearly forget about Bella. Truly, Narcissa had been Bellatrix's saviour during these few days, for she seemed to actually enjoy chattering about valances and crystals.

Bellatrix failed to understand why on earth a ball was so bloody _important_, so when she finally found herself clad in an elaborate gown, surrounded by dancing couples in a grand ballroom at Walpurgis night, she could count at least twenty different places she would rather be at.

There was not one positive thing about this night; her corset was too tight, her mask (for everyone was wearing masks) was too large, her make-up was too meretricious, the music was too prosy, the floor was too slippery for her to walk on in her too uncomfortable high heels and the guests were too prim. The women were all donning intricate, colourful dresses that billowed around them as they swirled about the ballroom; they all had their hair done as though they were attending a hairdressing contest and their overly painted faces were covered with masks. The men too were all sporting expensive dress robes and were either dancing with their dames or conversing with each other while drinking their wine. Bellatrix only knew a handful of people in there.

She shook her head when a tall blond waiter offered her a glass of dark red wine and courteously refused when a handsome young Swede asked her to dance. The false devoir disappeared, however, when the man insisted and attempted to pull her into a dancing embrace. Bellatrix all but growled at him, ignoring the appalled look a passing woman cast her, and the man eventually retreated, murmuring something in his language that Bellatrix had no doubt was the Swedish equivalent for "bitch". Receding into the farthest corner of the room, Bellatrix momentarily thought she must look like Andromeda, who apparently adored sulking in the shadows at parties.

When the track finally changed and the music got a bit more buoyant, several women let out small laughs and squeaks of delight as their partners spun them around playfully. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She had merely taken a sip when she saw her father leading Ophelia Lestrange to the dance floor. She sighed (_this won't be good_) and her eyes searched for her mother. She spotted Druella standing stiffly by her cousin, Lizbeth Rosier, her mouth a thin line and her knuckles having gone white around her glass of alcohol as she watched her husband dance with Mrs Lestrange. There was nothing inappropriate about it, really, but everyone in the room knew Druella and Ophelia had never gotten along very well. Bellatrix barely stifled a laugh when her mother gracefully walked over to Abraxas Malfoy and whispered something in his ear -the next moment the two were too swirling among the other dancing couples, suspiciously close to Cygnus and Ophelia (_and they claim to be adults_).

"You look ravishing tonight, Miss Black. As always, of course," a deep, sultry male voice drawled and Bellatrix closed her eyes, smiling thinly.

"Lestrange," she said flatly, opening her eyes wide as she felt his arm slither around hers. "And I thought I wouldn't see you tonight. How stupid of me to let myself be so hopeful."

Rodolphus laughed. "We're out of school, Bella." He smirked. "You don't have to act the part of the hard-to-get femme fatale here, there are no first-years around to impress."

Bellatrix arched an eyebrow. "I see you maintain your sense of humour _out of school_ as well, Lestrange. How delightful. And do _not_ call me Bella."

He merely shrugged. "It suits you. It means _beautiful_, you know, _Miss Black_."

"I do know, Lestrange, and I do not see why I need compliments from... men like you."

"It is not a compliment, it is your name. And the truth, I daresay. It truly is a shame, to hide such beauty behind a mask." Rodolphus smirked again, and snatched the drink from Bellatrix's hand before she could protest.

"I haven't finished that," she hissed, but he chuckled.

"Come," he pulled her arm slightly, "let's dance."

Bellatrix huffed. "Dance? With _you_, Lestrange? I don't think so."

"Would you rather dance with Crabbe or Goyle? Or Malfoy?"

"I'd rather sleep with the Giant Squid than dance with any of you," Bellatrix said coldly, finally springing her arm free from Rodolphus' not very tight grasp.

"I knew you liked sex, Bella, but the Giant-"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Afraid someone might overhear and find out you're not a blushing maiden?" Rodolphus chuckled. "Don't worry, beautiful, your secret's safe with me."

It took every ounce of Bellatrix's willpower not to slap him. "Lestrange," she said, as calmly as she could manage, "why don't you dance with Narcissa instead? I'm sure she'll swoon at your feet if you do so much as touch her gloved hand."

"Oh, but I am no Malfoy, and she is no Bellatrix," Rodolphus' smile widened. "Now come and dance with me."

"I don't think so, Lestrange. Ah, your dear brother is here..." Bellatrix's voice trailed off as Rabastan approached them, his dark brown robes hanging loosely around his thin frame as he strode towards his brother and Bellatrix.

Rodolphus rolled his eyes, turning his head to face his younger brother. "I am _busy_, Rabastan, can't you see?"

By the time the two brothers turned their attention to the spot she had been standing, though, Bellatrix had already disappeared in the colourful crowd. "Idiot," she murmured under her breath as she strode among the crowd, struggling to maintain an elegant posture, though it was far from easy, having to walk on those damned heels. A tall red-haired woman huffed disapprovingly when Bellatrix accidentally bumped on her. Bellatrix heard her snort "Such impertinence!" and the short, plump man next to her nodded obediently in agreement.

_How did I get myself into _this? _Oh, I am a Black_. _Of course_. The music had stopped once again and a quick glance towards the orchestra confirmed Bellatrix's fears; they were going to play a waltz. _Damn it_. Every Pureblood lady with a name to uphold should dance a beautiful slow waltz with a respectable Pureblood man, this she knew. If she did not dance, her mother would no doubt nag about it for weeks -but then, she would probably stop if Bellatrix "accidentally" brought up Abraxas Malfoy. But Bellatrix wouldn't do that. It wasn't worth the drama that was sure to follow.

Bellatrix could almost feel Rodolphus' eyes roaming over the guests looking for her. Oh, she would _not_ dance with Rodolphus Lestrange! Or anyone, for the matter. She could put up with an importunate Druella, but not with an uppish Rodolphus. Leaving the ballroom really seemed the best idea to her, and so she did, ignoring the warning look Grandmother Irma sent her way as she swept past her.

The difference between the ballroom and the rest of the Manor was glaring. There was suddenly no music, no noise, no chattering -Bellatrix closed the heavy oak doors behind her and leaned back against the cold stone wall, closing her eyes. She remained like this for several long seconds before she bent down and took off her shoes, giving a small sigh as she did so. She really didn't need them -she was taller than most sixteen year old girls -_for she was no girl, she was a woman_- and an addition in height was just excessive. When her bare feet finally touched the floor, she almost smiled. The marble floor was very cold, true, but Bellatrix didn't quite care. The next thing she did was take off the bloody mask.

Before she knew it, Bellatrix found herself in the gardens. She had no idea how she had gotten there, but she most certainly didn't regret her decision to get out of the manor. Her bare feet felt oddly at home touching the stone paved footpath and the cool breeze against her skin was a welcome change from the smothering atmosphere of the ballroom. Holding her heels and mask in one hand and her ruffle skirts in the other, Bellatrix walked slowly down the footpath, the smell of lilies and roses enveloping her. She had no particular destination, she just wandered about the large gardens for Merlin knew how long until a dim light coming from one of the manor's windows caught her eye.

Bellatrix stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes as she looked up. The light was coming from the second floor – _weird, everyone is at the ballroom and all the upper floors are locked_. Her curiosity only intensified when she realized the window was that of her father's study -had Cygnus gone there for some reason? But no, her father had been chatting with Caspar Crouch when she had fled the ballroom – _but Merlin knows how long I've been out here for, it could be hours.._.

"You are acting like a child," Bellatrix muttered angrily to herself. The upper floors were locked, and Cygnus had the key. Therefore, the only person who could enter the study was him. Besides, there was another, much simpler explanation -what if someone had simply forgotten to turn off the lights?

_No, Cygnus isn't the one up there, and there _is_ someone up there_. Bellatrix truly had no idea how she knew. But she did. There was something _odd_ about that light, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, and for some reason she was certain her father, or any other Black, knew not about the person in Cygnus' study. Bellatrix frowned and put her shoes and mask back on. She wanted to do _something_ and catching a possible thief on the act did seem like an interesting thing to do at the moment.

Her theory was based on nothing, her father could be the one up there for all she knew, and if she bumped into him in his study, he would of course get furious. She knew she would most likely meet an empty study room on the second floor, but she _really_ wanted to go and check. It was reckless, unplanned, venturesome -in short, something she really _shouldn't_ do, but the thrill of possibly going after someone easily managed to silence the small warning voice in the back of her head. It took her only a few seconds to get back in the house again from the huge glass doors of the drawing room, so she assumed she had only been out in the gardens for some minutes.

Her heels clicked on the marble staircase, echoing in the empty manor, the sound only rivaled by the muffled chattering and slow music coming from the distant ballroom. Bellatrix did not want to be heard; she was thankful when she finally reached the second floor and the sound of her damned shoes was smothered by the thick green carpet beneath her feet.

It was quiet -too quiet, as if someone had placed a silencing charm on the long corridor. But it was not dark, as it should have been; the faint light at the end of the hallway was still there, and Bellatrix held her breath as she willed herself to move closer, as quietly as she could manage.

"Miss Black... What a surprise to see you up here, all alone."

Bellatrix's hand immediately went down on her hip, where her wand was hidden beneath the endless pleats of her ruffled skirt; she turned around to face the intruder, only to be met with his wand already fixed on her, before she could eve raise her own.

"I advise you not to do anything reckless," the man said softly, his voice low and velvety, his wand aimed directly at her chest. "I don't think Mister Black would be happy if his beloved daughter were harmed."

Bellatrix's mouth hung open, her breast heaving, as she struggled for words. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here -how did you _get_ here?"

The stranger shrugged. "I went up the stairs... turned left... I believe I followed the same path you did."

Bellatrix's eyes widened and her grip tightened around her still lowered wand. Who was this man, this strange, _infuriating_ man that had sneaked into a locked room and _dared_ speak to her like this?

Her eyes searched his form, her brain struggling to remember him from somewhere, though it was impossible; his face was covered by a simple black mask, like all the other guests'. He was tall, surely taller than herself -and she wasn't a short woman in the slightest- and held himself with an air of self-confidence (or was it arrogance?) that most men Bellatrix knew lacked. When he took a few steps closer to her, he looked as though he was gliding across the floor instead of walking.

"Who are you?" she demanded, rather harshly, finally raising her wand to meet his.

"Now, Miss Black, don't do anything you'll regret," he repeated in a patronizing voice that made Bellatrix's blood boil.

This man was downright _arrogant_! How dare he! How dare he speak to her like this, how dare he threaten her and underestimate her like he did? She was Bellatrix Black, not some random hussy, and this was her _house_!

"Who the _hell_ are you?" She poured all the anger she felt in her voice, expecting to intimidate him.

The man, however, instead of cowering like everyone else did whenever she used that tone, merely chuckled and took another step forward. Bellatrix involuntarily made to step backwards but managed to collect herself before she got embarrassed -she would stand her ground, and would make this stranger regret treating her like this.

"Now, is that a way for a girl so well-mannered as you to talk to her father's guests?" he tilted his head to the side, obviously mocking her.

"My father would have killed you if he knew you're up here," she seethed, ready to strike at any moment. "But don't worry, I can do it for him."

To her surprise, the man laughed. He _laughed_. "My, aren't you a fiery one? I think I will almost regret hurting you."

"Hurting me?" Bellatrix scoffed, though she didn't feel nearly as confident as she hoped she sounded. "Good luck with that!"

"Oh, I won't be needing it," he said matter-of-factly. "I will give you one last warning, though, my beautiful lady, and I suggest you heed it; lower your wand, and do not do anything you'll regret. I don't want you to be harmed, I think..."

"You-" she paused, words failing her as this truly nerve racking man continued approaching her (though not exactly threateningly). _His beautiful lady_? Who did he think he was?

"You wouldn't be able to harm me, even if you wanted to, _my lord,_" she spat, however she found herself absentmindedly lowering her wand.

"You know," he said softly, "I quite like hearing you call me that."

"What, _my lord_?" Bellatrix huffed loudly, and her lip curled back into a snarl. "Annoying _and_ stuck-up. You must have a lot of friends."

"Indeed, I do. I can see you are very observant as well, Miss Black. What a wonderful trait... though not quite needed in a girl whose only purpose in life is to get married and have children."

"Oh, I can assure you, my purpose-"

"Oh, you are destined for different things, I presume? Or perhaps your reputation is so damaged that no man wishes to propose? Now that's a pity... You're such a pretty girl, you know..."

Bellatrix's mouth gaped. "How – how dare you-"

She wasn't able to finish her phrase, though, for she was suddenly swept off her feet and pulled forward with such force that made her grip on her wand loosen and herself nearly topple over; she would have landed face-first on the carpet, surely, had she not fallen directly into the stranger's arms.

"Let go of me-"

She let out a small yelp of pain as he yanked her arm behind her back and held it there so firmly she was sure it would be bruised tomorrow morning. He pulled her flush against him, in a position that made her head tun up, her eyes meeting his own dark ones behind his mask.

"If you don't let go of me this instant," she hissed, trying to kick against him, but his hold was so _tight _that she couldn't even move, "if you don't let go, my father will _kill_ you. _I_ will kill you."

"Hush," he breathed, his free hand touching her hair, "don't say things you don't mean."

"Don't mean?" she seethed, attempting to scratch him with the hand that was pressing against his firm chest, but failing. "_Don't mean_? I said, let go, you abominable swine! You _will_ regret this-"

"No, Miss Black, you will regret it if you continue talking like this," he crooned, somehow managing to infuriate her even more.

His eyes found hers and, against her will, Bellatrix couldn't help but think their colour was the most beautiful dark brown she had ever seen; angrily, she mentally screamed at herself for this slip of her mind.

"My," he smirked, bringing his face even closer to hers. Bellatrix wanted to pull away and even considered spitting at him, but found herself unable to do so, for his eyes were suddenly so alluring... He chuckled softly, "a man should kiss you rather than threaten you... But I do not know, which one would work best with you?"

Her eyes widened. "You flagrant oaf! You will do neither one nor the other!"

She struggled even more fiercely to free herself from his grasp, but he merely gave a small, delicate laugh as she wriggled like a trapped mouse in his arms.

"If you don't let me go right this instant-"

In all of a sudden his arms were gone, and Bellatrix had only air to support her. She crumpled forward and fell into an awkward heap on the floor, her skirts laid out around her and her party mask all but fallen off her face.

It took her a moment to realize what had just happened, and when she did realize, she sloppily pushed herself up with all the strength that she could muster, blindly searching around for her wand as she did so. A stream of incoherent curses left her mouth when she tripped again and she heard the stranger's curt laugh from above her.

"You shouldn't sport high-heels if you find yourself unable to walk properly on them," he said with cold amusement, taking a step back to take her embarrassed form in. "Do you need a hand, my Dear?"

"You _bastard_," she spat, finally managing to stand on her feet. "You foul, wicked, idiotic-"

"Oh, I have been called worse," he cut her off, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "If I were you, however, I would stop now."

Bellatrix had never wanted to punch someone in the face so badly before. "Where is my wand?"

"Where you dropped it."

Bellatrix was sure that, if she were to look herself in a mirror, she would see red fume coming out from her ears and nostrils. "Give me back my wand. _Now_."

The man took a step back and Bellatrix felt his eyes burning into hers behind his mask. "I'm afraid I must leave now," he said, sounding almost apologetic. "Do not assume I did not enjoy your company, Miss Black. In fact, I found it rather... amusing. But, I do have business to attend to, you see. Oh, and Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix glared at him, wholeheartedly wishing she could kill people with her gaze.

"Don't tell anyone about our little... conversation. You don't know how others might react to this, I'm saying this for your own good, of course. So..." He made a small gesture with his hand, "until we meet again."

And with that, he left. He simply _left_. He passed by a still frozen Bellatrix and with a gentle swoosh of his long black robes he turned to the stairs.

Bellatrix stood there, hair and dress disheveled, wand nowhere to be seen and an expression of pure fury across her face. _That bastard_, was the only thing she could think of, _that bloody bastard_! Oh, they would meet again, she would make sure of that. It might take her months, years, decades, but she _would_ find this haughty fool and she _would_ make him regret everything he had just said and done to her.

But for now, she had a ball to attend to. She wouldn't let this idiot ruin her entire day, and she would most certainly not let anyone know how one stranger had managed to embarrass her, Bellatrix Black, in her own house. No, she would armour herself behind a wall of charming small smiles and courtly detachment... until she met this man again.

x


End file.
